


rabbit hole

by kinpika



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragons and magic, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Taikomochi, Time Travel, mcgenjiweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8426674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: McGenji Week 2016Day Seven Prompt: Supernatural/Halloween“A dragon told me.”“Of course a dragon told — wait, what?!”





	

One thing McCree wasn’t sure he would get used to was all the rules over here. Not that he was going to flex them, anytime soon, but he’d been sitting down for quite some time, and his knees were killing him. Last time he’d tried to sit back on his arse, he’d received a dirty look from some other serving boy, and decided that it probably wouldn’t be the wisest option. 

Definitely sure his leg had fallen asleep by now, McCree was starting to wonder if the information had been right. This was apparently the best lead into figuring out how a governor met his untimely death, but McCree doubted it could be. Sure, the man visited the odd bar and such — McCree hadn’t met a man who hadn’t just yet — but this was,

Well, not like those other places.

Finally, the door slides open. McCree would give his two cents a lot, especially when it wasn’t needed, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he laid his eyes on something beautiful. Otherworldly, even, with how the man seemed to float into the room (McCree did a quick check to see if he did have feet, as it wasn’t the first time he’d stumbled along something that flew). Fingers inch towards his hat where his gun sat, on instinct, when the man drew closer. 

Until he settled himself a respectable distance away, and McCree could smell perfume. Vaguely flowery, maybe like those plums he had the other day, but it was enticing. Was this a seduction method? McCree had been warned about the apparent increase in activity in this area, and he could already hear his superiors yelling at him about preparation, surveillance. He understood how the governor had been so charmed, however, when the man smiled slightly.

“I take it you’re ‘Genji’,” he says, gruff without meaning to be, as the man begins to pour tea. McCree didn’t want to admit he’d had enough tea in the time he was waiting to need to use the bathroom, but he resisted watching the liquid to study the man. 

They liked to paint their entertainers, highlighting all the areas of interest, McCree had noted upon first arrival. Stepping into this area of Hanamura was like stepping into another time altogether, hundreds of years ago. Delicate arts and none of the nonsense back home. Not the first time McCree had actually considered it time travel, with just how exact everything seemed to be. Nothing of his had gone off about it being another year, though, and he had considered _magic_ to be at work. Strong magic. 

“You would be correct.” Was that attitude? From what McCree understood, these were supposed to be the politest people. Cracking a smile at the way the man’s face seems not quite as friendly, as if he had just realised something too, McCree took the offered tea without drinking.

“This isn’t a social call, unfortunately.”

“I see.” There was that pout again. McCree couldn’t remember a time he had wrapped up all this song and dance so quickly. 

Teapot set down again, Genji didn’t reach for anything else. Simply folded his hands in his lap, back perfectly straight, every inch one of those portraits McCree had seen in books just before landing. Incredible, and McCree did think that maybe Genji was this one particular man in his third book, but he didn’t have time to linger as he fished around in his coat. “Just a few questions.”

“For a foreigner, you are awfully confident.”

Now, that wasn’t the right kind of language to use. McCree had been watching the other people at work, and the strange politeness so ingrained in these people. Like Genji had stepped out of a different life altogether too, yet closer to McCree’s. That was confusing. Noting that, McCree just put on a  smile, and smoothed out the photograph. There was no hint of any emotion on Genji’s face besides vague annoyance.

“This man visited you regularly.”

“And?”

“He’s dead, Genji.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to ask if I had been sleeping with him.” Well, _that_ was not something McCree expected to hear. Maybe the incredulousness showed on his face, as Genji shrugged, waving his hand. “He groped me, but that was it.”

“I see.” Scratching his jaw, McCree put the photo away. He needed a shave, and a better lead, clearly. Genji wasn’t going to give anything away, and the indifference said too much, yet nothing at all. This was why he hated being put on cases like this, and was sure to give Reyes an earful when he got home. _If_ he got home.

“You know, your _Japanese_ is surprisingly good for a foreign man.” 

McCree notes the change in direction, and his fingers are back at the edge of his hat, as he squints, trying to appear uncertain. “I suppose. Popular to learn back home.”

“A man like you, these days, would not know his head from his arse, but especially what someone is saying.”

Going to argue, McCree notes how Genji’s hand tucked into his sleeve, and knocks his hat back, taking his gun. Genji lunges, all soft material and painted face and high hair, yet a blade in his hand, held at McCree’s throat. McCree himself was not so easily rolled over, keeping the barrel of his gun pressed firmly against Genji’s temple, pointed and obvious. No matter what era it was, surely a man would recognise the danger presented, and that look of annoyance returned to Genji’s face tenfold. “You brought a gun,” he says plainly, and McCree is surprised to hear English this time.

“Always.” Offering a shrug, McCree doesn’t move his weapon. “You always carry a knife?”

“Always,” Genji returns, but in turn, doesn’t remove it from McCree’s throat.

After a tense moment, McCree lets his gaze drop to the side. “You spilt the tea, you know.”

Not that McCree thought Genji could look anymore displeased, he did, but it wasn’t directed at him. “Shit,” he sighs, and moves from McCree, staring down at his clothes. Slight spotting of stains were appearing along the edges, and Genji pushed himself to stand (in the most indelicate way possible), shaking the material out. “Shit,” Genji repeats, and pouts again.

Still lying down, McCree wanted to offer some words of comfort, but couldn’t stop his grin. Well, Genji had maintained form up until a point, at least, and if the rumours circulating him were true, he could understand why the governor continued to visit him. He was entertaining in all the ways he wasn’t supposed to be. 

“Tell me about him.”

“About who?” Genji seemed to have firmly given up on assessing any damage, and dropped himself back down to the floor. No longer settled on his knees, all poised, Genji kicked a leg out, and fished inside his _kimono_ for — well, McCree hoped it wasn't another weapon. He wasn’t that prepared. 

“You smoke?”

Genji makes some kind of a noise that McCree assumes is confirmation, and flicks the lighter a few times, lighting the end of his cigarette. Inhaling deeply, Genji slowly releases the smoke, and reaches for the ashtray to his left, drawing it closer — McCree was sure that was not there before. Whilst Genji taps idly at the edge, McCree wonders if it was okay for him too to light up, but doesn’t. He hadn’t seen any other people smoke (and especially _not_ inside the buildings here), yet Genji just did as he wanted. 

Despite wanting to ask him, McCree scoped out the room once more. Was this magic? Was that why Genji was so blatantly giving the middle finger to his home? 

“You look strange when you think.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Frowning, Genji exaggerated his expression by dragging the corners of his mouth down with two fingers. “Strange, like this.”

“You are acting far too casually for this situation.”

“He’s a corrupt governor who was cheating out on a deal with my family. We did not kill him, but maybe someone else he had pissed off caught up to him.”

Genji speaks faster, almost on purpose, and McCree may have been confident enough in his Japanese to speak here, but he lost himself around three quarters of the way through. “You’re saying… someone else did it?” That didn’t seem right. Where the governor had been found, it was too coincidental.

“If a Shimada man wanted to kill him, they would’ve done it differently.” Genji shrugs, holding his smoke out to stare at the burning end. “We don’t _eat_ men.”

Oh, _there_ it was. The slip up. “How did you know he was eaten?” They hadn’t released any information on how the governor had been found, and considering it was regarded as something _other_ than human, he was sent in. Even though McCree did like to argue that humans had (and probably still did) eat other humans, he’d been packed and boarded onto a plane several hours later. And here he was, smirking as Genji just frowned. 

“A dragon told me.”

“Of course a dragon told — wait, _what_?!”

It was Genji’s turn to smirk, as he rubbed out the light of his cigarette. Not going to elaborate, Genji stood once more, making his way to the window. McCree half expected a dragon to appear, because that would be just his luck at this point. Definitely thankful that no dragons appeared to set him on fire, McCree breathed a sigh of relief, and followed Genji to the window.

Eyeing him, as he drew closer, Genji finally spoke again. “You are one of those hunters.”

“I’m simply trying to find a killer, Genji.” McCree shrugs, because he had many titles in his line of work. Dragon-slayer wasn’t one of them, but if it ended up that way, so be it.

“What’s your name, hunter?”

An odd request. Most people just stuck to the titles, to the point where there was one time were McCree nearly forgot his own name. “Jesse McCree,” he offers, holding out his hand.

Genji shakes his hand, firmly, not offering the usual look of confusion he had received for the past few days. “A pleasure to meet you… Jesse.” He grins again, and it’s not a biting one, or a pointed one, but it warped his face into something incredible. Makeup or no, watching his whole face lift at a simple expression was remarkable.

His heart gives a little, the more he dwells on it, and McCree isn’t wise enough to say no. Well, he had never been all that good at his job. Like he had told his senior that one time: he had always been a sucker for a pretty set of eyes. Genji just happened to have the prettiest McCree had seen in far too long, that’s all. Common sense would kick in sometime, but not that day.

“To answer your question, again, we did not kill him. _I_ did not kill him. Why you are investigating that pathetic man’s death escapes me, but you are wasting your time here.”

There goes his moment. McCree hums, looking out the window now. Noting how the sky seemed to shine in a way it wasn’t supposed to, and he somewhat remembered magic. Potential magic. “Why are you here, then?”

“To make a point.”

“‘A point’?”

Genji doesn’t explain, doing that smile again like he knew far more than McCree would ever, and crosses his arms. Studies McCree, who returns the favour, still doing that curl of lips, even as he assesses from head to toe. For one whole moment, McCree feels rather naked, and not in a pleasant way, and almost believes him about the dragon thing. McCree didn’t know much about dragons, being as they were outside his jurisdiction, but it would be just his luck to fall into the lap of one. Lap or lair? What was the most appropriate thing, here? And was Genji the dragon itself, or did he really speak to them?

This was making McCree’s head hurt. This is why he missed the simple cannibalism cases, not following strigas, or the odd incubus, or that one time he pissed off a hoard of merpeople and nearly drowned. A half eaten governor was sitting back in the base, and Genji was the only lead, yet he was saying everything and nothing. 

“You’re thinking too much, again.”

“You’re making it hard not to think _too much_.”

“That must be tough on you.”

Ouch. “You clearly know… something, why won’t you just tell me?”

He walks away, and McCree just manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The single most frustrating person he had ever met, even more so than the rest of his team. Gritting his teeth, McCree stays still, crossing his arms. No, definitely not. Dragon with the answers or no, McCree was not falling into another creatures fantastic trap, and almost wished he took the rampant succubus case over this. But _oh no_ , he had to make a point to Reyes. I can do this, he had argued, for a good few hours, until the higher ups had relented. It’ll be fine, he had said on his way out. Nothing could go wrong.

Genji stops at a door McCree hadn’t noticed, and he didn’t _like_ magic all that much. Not really, not like this. The sky was still shimmery, and the people were still milling about in the garden, but it was like he wasn’t even there. Another time, another place. Like he was sitting, surrounded by ghosts, or he was the unwelcome one. 

“Follow me.” Disappearing into the door with a wink, Genji doesn’t really give him much room to argue. McCree almost doesn’t go, and is willing to let his prime source walk away, until he throws his hands in the air. Screw it. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” McCree sighs, as he steps into the door. Looking over his shoulder quickly, he watches as the room practically blinks out behind him. “A really bad feeling.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to do a witcher sort of thing but then i went fuq it and just threw all the little bits i'd written over the week together into this. please enjoy i just kinda ended it bc i didn't know where i was going (lol what's new)
> 
> also thank you for reading my mcgenji week fics! i hope you liked them


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